The sound of rapidly retreating footfalls was the only indication Severus had that Remus had turned and walked away. The uneven rhythm of his descending the stairs, and then the slamming of a door downstairs somewhere. Severus finally turned and peered in the direction in which Remus had left, and sighed heavily.
Satisfied? he asked himself sourly. See if you can't turn Dumbledore against you next. You're doing a damn good job of alienating everyone.
With a sigh, he forced himself to begin moving again, towards the room Remus had indicated that Autumn was in, though he had his reservations about that. He was halfway there when he heard a soft, muffled melody drifting through one of the doors. Pausing at a door that was slightly ajar, Severus pushed it open slowly, and peered inside. It was Molly, her back to the door, singing a soft lullaby to one of the twins, caressing his face.
Severus felt like an intruder, but he could not rip himself away from the doorway, and just stood there, watching, the melody filling his ears and mind.
"Dreams are on the nightwind, and dreams are in my heart, and when one dream has ended, another dream will start," she was singing in a soft, tear-broken voice, and he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closing. What must it be like to have someone care so unconditionally? At that moment, Severus could admit to himself at least what he would have never thought possible—that was what he wanted. He wanted someone to care about him, to sit at his bedside and hold his hand, to whisper that everything was going to be all right. And he was damnably jealous that he couldn't have it.
"Give me your tomorrows, and I will give you mine," Molly sang. Her voice was off-key, shaking, the tune wavering and impossible, but it was a song made beautiful by a mother's love. For a little while, Severus had allowed himself to be convinced that he could find that, but standing here now, he knew it was folly. Some people were born to be loved, and others not, and he fell into the latter category.
"The stars all nod their heads, and the moon has closed his eyes..."
He could imagine the reception those three boys would have when they woke. There would be no screams, no awkward moments as they were stiffly embraced by one, and then another person who did not mean it. There would be no demands for explanations. He could imagine the tearful joy that they lived, the overwhelming relief, the laughter bubbling from lips that had been quivering with lament... When the Weasley boys awoke, it would not be to distrustful stares.
"To a lullaby of love's design..."
Ron stirred in the bed farthest from the door, and Severus stepped into the shadows in the hall, still watching as Molly suddenly stopped singing and rushed to his bedside. She sat on the bed, leaning over him, her hands on his face.
"How do you feel?" she asked, and even from outside the room, Severus could hear the relief in her voice.
"Head hurts," Ron murmured.
Mine too, Severus thought silently, and turned quietly into the hall again, drifting away from the room. He walked slowly to the room which housed Autumn, but he paused, his hand on the doorknob, considering. After a moment, he turned and made his way carefully, silently, slowly upstairs, and into his room again. He opened the drawer on the nightstand, frowning as he pulled out his mask, not remembering putting that there. Discarding the mask on the bed, he rummaged through the scant contents of the drawer, and finally gave up finding anything worthwhile in there. He'd been hoping there had been a spare bottle of headache potion stashed in the drawer, but there was not.
Sinking onto the bed for a moment, he stared blankly at the wall, trying to gather his thoughts. He could think of nothing, though. He was, as it happened, utterly useless. If he'd had the energy, he would have Apparated away from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and he wasn't sure he would have ever returned. As it happened, though, he did not have the energy. He barely had the energy to sit upright, but what he lacked in energy, he suddenly made up for in conviction. Standing, he looked around the room once more, wishing he knew where his shoes were, but, not finding them decided it was unimportant. Through a skillful combination of determination and pride, he made his way downstairs again, and paused at the door to the kitchen, taking a deep breath.
Bracing himself for the effort it would require, he banged the door open suddenly and stalked in, cutting a path across the kitchen to the fireplace and picking up the bowl of Floo powder from the mantle.
"Severus! I thought you were in bed!" Minerva was standing suddenly, and Severus glared at her, silently warning her to stay where she was.
"I have work to do," he replied harshly, and, before anyone else could protest, he tossed the powder into the fireplace and stepped in, intoning his destination. A heartbeat later, he stepped out of the fireplace and into his office at Hogwarts, leaning heavily against the wall for support.
Two hours later, Severus re-emerged into the kitchen at Number Twelve. He had taken a shower, and a bottle of Energizing Infusion, and if he was still tired, he did not feel as though he were about to topple over. It was late enough that most of the people who had been in the house when he left had gone, and only Remus and Bill remained in the kitchen. They shot him twin venomous looks as he stepped out of the fireplace, and Severus ignored them both.
"Is it really necessary for you to Floo in here at all times of the night, Snape?" Lupin asked, and Severus cringed inwardly. He couldn't remember the last time the werewolf had referred to him as 'Snape' instead of 'Severus', and it dug deeper than he cared to admit.
"Sometimes it is," he replied evenly, brushing himself off. Without another word, he stalked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs, and was only vaguely aware that he was being followed. It wasn't until he reached the door to the room where the Weasley boys were that either of two men behind him spoke, and, unsurprisingly, it was Bill.
"You are not going in there," he said firmly, stepping in front of Severus and blocking his path.
Severus had little patience for nonsense. "Move out of the way, Bill," he said tiredly. "You are not going to prevent me from going anywhere I please."
"I'm going to prevent you from going in that room," Bill replied. "You've done enough for one night. Just get the hell out of here."
For a moment, Severus stared at the eldest Weasley boy, stunned. He was accustomed to indirect hostility, but had not been prepared for such blunt loathing. During the space of his hesitation, Remus stepped between Bill and Severus.
"I'm not going to order you out," he said softly, "because you are a member of this Order until and unless Dumbledore sees fit to change that. But I am going to insist that you be more considerate of the others in this house. Those three boys are not to be disturbed, by anyone. They are still recovering and..."
"Sod off, Lupin," Severus snapped, and, perhaps a bit peevishly, he simply Apparated into the room. Much to the protest of the two men outside.
Molly was arranging a cloth on Ron's head, and she turned around sharply at the popping as Severus appeared in the room and began stalking over. Her eyes were wide, but the shock was indignant, not fearful. She knew, then, that he was alive. "What are you doing here?" she hissed, standing and bracing her hands on her hips.
"Step aside, Molly," he ordered tersely, reaching into his pocket. He brought forth half a dozen small vials. "Ron's primary complaint is a headache, correct?" he asked as he approached the bed.
"Get away from him."
Severus ignored her, and sat on the edge of the bed, touching Ron's shoulder. The boy woke, and his eyes widened at the sight of the one responsible for his condition.
"What do you think you're doing?" Molly demanded, but Severus ignored her, and moved his hand behind Ron's neck, lifting the boy's head from his pillow.
"Drink this," he commanded, flicking the cork from one of the bottles with his thumb, and pressing the flask to Ron's lips.
"GET AWAY FROM MY SON!" Molly screamed, and the door burst open, Remus and Bill both charging in, wands drawn. Severus tilted the potion down Ron's throat, ignoring the rapidly filling room.
"Knight to H-7," Severus whispered to Ron, whose eyes widened slightly. "Check." He set the bottle aside and lowered Ron gently to the bed again, then turned to Molly. "Have either of the other two wakened yet?" he asked, and she stared icily at him. After a long pause, it became apparent that she was not going to answer, so he sighed and separated the bottles, two on one side of the table and three on the other. "For headaches, pain and dizziness," he pointed to the two, "or for nausea," he indicated the other three. "And they're safe to mix."
He turned back to Ron and patted his shoulder. "Get some rest, Mr. Weasley. You have a Potions exam to be studying for tomorrow." Having said this, Severus stood and brushed past the other three occupants of the room, ignoring them all. Making a special effort to ignore Remus.
He made his way down the hall, and, after only a brief hesitation, let himself into the room where Autumn was sleeping.
For a moment, he watched her from the door. She looked so peaceful, her hair spread over one pillow, the other clutched in a tight embrace. She was not whimpering or giving any indication that she was dreaming, which was probably just as well. He slipped the rest of the way into the room, bringing a chair to the bedside and settling into it to watch her.
"I'm sorry I brought you into this," he whispered into the darkness, his eyes on Autumn. He knew that he hadn't really brought her into it, that she would, in fact, have most likely been dead if not for him. It was Willow who had unwittingly brought her into it. And Willow who unwittingly saved her. Don't give yourself credit for being an unsuspecting implement in this situation. "I truly am sorry," he repeated, and then fell silent for a moment, his eyes losing some of their focus in the darkness. "I'm sorry for a lot of things, actually."
He shifted in the chair, propping his feet on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her, lest he wake her. "I've been making mistakes all my life, it seems. Fitting, since I was a mistake to begin with. It was a mistake to ever become involved in any of this. Sometimes..." he frowned at himself, idly wondering what was possessing him to talk like this, "sometimes I wish I'd died long before I ever started school. You know, I don't remember being lonely or miserable when I was a child, because I didn't know anything other than the existence that I had. I didn't know that it wasn't right to keep a child locked in his room when there were guests because mother didn't want a disturbance in her... whatever it is women do when they're together. It never occurred to me that my father shouldn't have taken his own frustrated failures out on me. I never thought twice about being an inconvenience. An added strain to an already stretched budget which barely accommodated my mother's desire to be like the Malfoys and the Notts."
He peered into the darkness, squinting at Autumn, but she hadn't stirred. She was well and truly asleep, it seemed. His eyes darted to the bedside table, and settled on a small, empty bottle. Asleep under the influence of a potion, it seemed. Reassured that she wouldn't wake, he continued. "I didn't realize until I started Hogwarts that there was something more to life. My very first inclination. And I was such a miserable failure at it," he whispered, his eyes focused deep into the darkness of the room, seeing past Autumn, into the past. "They called me a slimy, greasy git. And they were right. I didn't really understand it then, but they were right. I didn't know how to act, how to speak... hell, I didn't even know how to wash my hair properly. So much of my education, which should have been begun when I was a boy in my parents' flat, was lacking. It's no wonder they laughed at me. I would have done the same thing. But it wasn't that they called me names. It was watching them, with their friends, getting their letters from home, asking out girls and talking to parties. That was when I realized that they had a great deal that I didn't. And I was so jealous I couldn't stand it.
"I tried so hard to be a good student. I spent my nights up late, studying, pouring over texts and memorizing spells. Practicing. When they were having dinner, I was in the library, a book in front of me, reading. I found out that I was a fast learner, and I put that knowledge to use, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could make myself stand out by being smart." He looked at Autumn suddenly, and a melancholy smile touched his face in the darkness. "I know you don't understand this, but that's not a very Slytherin thing to do, you know. But even all my studying couldn't set me apart. I wasn't the best, nor even the second best. A distant third, perhaps, if that."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Severus tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a minute. "The Dark Lord promised me power," he said softly. "And power was something I'd never had. I was sixteen, and foolish, and I didn't have anyone around me to tell me that I had another choice. There was no one to counter any of the promises. I was going to have the power to get back at my father, and to get back at a number of my classmates who were... well, quite honestly, they were real jackasses. Of course I was too stupid to think beyond that
"I'm not going to tell you about being a Death Eater," he murmured apologetically to the still sleeping form. "I'm afraid that even a Dreamless Sleep potion wouldn't be enough to block out the images. But it was bad. And then I finally had my chance to right some of the past wrongs, and I became a spy. A traitor. I betrayed the side of right once, by turning to the Dark Lord, and then I betrayed the Dark Lord by becoming Dumbledore's spy. And then, to maintain my pretense, I convinced the Dark Lord that I was a double agent to his benefit. There were times I could barely keep up with my own lies. And I thought it a fitting punishment for the choices I'd made. And I never gave any particular thought to what I was doing. I was, very simply, doing a job. A dangerous job, but a job. I hadn't many friends... if you ask Remus, I hadn't any friends. Friends are a liability when you walk the line of loyalty."
He fell silent for a long minute before he continued. "I snapped at Remus tonight. I don't know why. I accused him of wanting something from me since he was being a friend, but I don't know why I said that. He's probably the second person to ever offer me something without expecting anything in return—Aislinn was the first. But I don't think Remus wants anything from me. Wanted anything from me. I'm quite certain he doesn't want anything from me now, and I can hardly say I blame him. I... I rather regret snapping at him." That was an understatement. Severus was acutely aware of the fact that he'd driven away the one person he could have called a friend.
"But it frightens me," Severus murmured. "Death Eaters and killing curses and Dark Creatures and criminals... I'd be a fool if I wasn't frightened sometimes, but those are things I can face and conquer. I know I can conquer them. I don't know how to go about accepting friendship. The price seems much higher, somehow, than anything else I could ever challenge. Stupid, isn't it?" He snorted derisively and closed his eyes. "I wish I hadn't been so short with Remus. He didn't deserve that, and... and I think I'm going to miss talking to him. Another mistake for me. If I had an autobiography, I think I'd call it 'The Mistake'."
He stretched suddenly, and put his feet on the floor again, leaning forward to peer at Autumn's face. She still hadn't moved. "You know," he said softly, "people have been telling me for years that I need to 'talk'. 'Don't hold everything inside, Severus. Talk to me, Severus. Tell me how you feel. It will do you good to talk it out.' It wasn't the talking part that I objected to. It was the fact that someone would have to hear it, and I didn't think I could bear to let anyone hear those things. Maybe that's why I can talk to you now—I know you can't hear me. You won't remember any of this come morning. I suppose that makes it a little safer for me."
He leaned back in his chair again, watching her unmoving, unstirring form. "Who knows? If I sit here and talk to you long enough, I might even answer some of my own questions. Like Aislinn. Who was she, Autumn? I really thought I knew, but in the past two weeks I've learned just enough about her to realize I didn't know anything. And it's strange, but I think that's helping me let go..."
He spent the rest of the night talking to her, and it was only when the morning sunlight sliced through the darkness that he finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
A/N: The song Molly is singing is a lullaby called 'Lullaby of Love's Design' by Miria L'auroel. It's horribly anachronistic, I know, because this story should probably be taking place 1997-ish and that's a song written in 2003 but... I don't care.